"The Mussulmans are quite right," I said, "Christianity is the grandest thing in the world; but Christians are mostly 'Pharisees and hypocrites' who believe little in their religion and act up to it still less."
He, on the contrary, maintained that Christians were no less admirable than their faith, that they followed the precepts contained in the Sermon on the Mount to the letter, and finally that of all Christians the Scotch were the cream.
We argued long without either of us convincing the other, and I must admit that my host, who was a much cleverer theologian than myself, had the last word.
In taking leave of him that night, I was bold enough to return to the charge. "Come, my dear sir," I began, "if we receive a blow on our right cheek, the Scriptures command us to offer our left also. If a man struck you on the right cheek, now what would you do?"
"What would I do?" he said after drawing a great whiff at his pipe. "What would I do? By Jove, I'd give him two that he wouldn't soon forget, I can tell you!"
I shook hands with my host, and retired in triumph.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Massacre of the English Tongue.—Donald the Friend of France.—Scotch Anecdotes again.—Reason of their Drollery.—Picturesque Dialect.—Dry Old Faces.—A Scotch Chambermaid.—Oddly-placed Moustachios.—My Chimney smokes.—Sarcastic Spirit.—A good Chance of entering Paradise thrown away.—Robbie Burns and the Greenock Shopkeeper.
